


A Broken Paradise

by Tentaculiferous



Series: On Healing [1]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Claustrophilia, Comfort No Hurt, Confinement, Destruction, Fluff, Gen, Mental Health Issues, fenton thermos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28821549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tentaculiferous/pseuds/Tentaculiferous
Summary: A safe and prosperous Infinite Realms and a free-roaming Dan Phantom are two things that cannot mix. They are a paradox, an impossibility.But still those words echo in Clockwork's mind: "He is YOUR responsibility now, Clockwork."How to keep both Dan Phantom and the Infinite Realms happy and healthy...Fortunately, Clockwork is well-versed in dealing with paradoxes. And if freedom is a requirement to be happy, wouldn't the illusion of freedom do the same trick?
Relationships: Clockwork & Dan Phantom
Series: On Healing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113191
Kudos: 20





	A Broken Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> " _It was a pleasure to burn._  
>  _It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed._ ― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

The skyline of Amity Park was wreathed in dark smoke from the fires that engulfed most of the skyscrapers. The smile on Dan's face as he flew through the smoky atmosphere was as radiant and threatening as any of the flames.

Underneath the scent of ashes was the harsh tang of unnatural chemicals in the air mixed with the sweet organic smell of burning flesh. Dan's ghost rays melted anything that crossed beneath the beams his hands shot out. He breathed deeply of the scent, that bewildering and unique combination of so many substances mixed together.

One of the few darkened buildings was the city's power plant. It had been one of the first places Dan had hit (he was not incapable of strategic thinking). The fires there had burned out hours ago, taking the city's electrical capacity with them. Now there was only moonlight, burning buildings, and the soft blaze of Dan's hair to shed revealing light to the terrified survivors below him.

Dan considered what to do with them. He didn't want to hit them all with his ghost rays. He'd been melting humans for hours now, and he felt a need to change things up. Fortunately, he had all the time in the world to find new and interesting ways to torment the deserving citizens of Amity Park.

He idly melted a few of the fleeing humans below before they could stagger more than a few steps away from him. The flesh sloughing off their bones was satisfying in a visceral, comforting way while he thought over the problem. He spotted one terrified human who looked vaguely familiar, and he held off on hitting her while he tried to puzzle out who she'd been to him.

A gym teacher! Yes, her name was Tetslaff. She'd been a nasty, barking bitch who'd put him through hell. Dan grinned nastily. He could definitely think up a fitting use for her.

He swooped at her, plan in mind. His old gym teacher screamed hoarsely as he hit her with a very, very mild ghost ray. She flew several feet and bounced against the pavement, eventually rolling to a stop. When she sat up, half the skin on her face had been scraped off from the friction between her and the asphalt.

Dan cackled. "I think that's an improvement to your looks." he said.

"I teach high schoolers. Like I haven't heard every crack about my looks there is." Tetslaff muttered, getting up to try and run away.  
This one was no quitter at least. He'd expect nothing less of his old hard-ass gym teacher. He set in on her again. He ended up keeping up the game for several miles ("Look teach, my stamina HAS improved!"), bouncing her along the road with a combination of kicks and blasts, making for a much improved game of kickball in Dan's opinion.

When Dan tired of this game, he abandoned her to lie there on the pavement in a puddle of her own blood. She was still alive though, and Dan thought she'd make it a few more hours. Tetslaff just had a few broken bones, and sure, half her skin had been peeled off from being dragged along the asphalt, but besides that, she was in good shape for one of Dan's victims.

He noted the part of town he left her in (he didn't think she'd make it very far with both legs snapped in multiple places) and flew off in search of new fun. He'd come back to finish her off later. He wasn't going to let something as lame as shock and blood loss claim one of this personal acquaintances when he wasn't even around to watch.

It was only right to let them struggle for a while. Wasn't he being a good sport, letting them have their chance to get away or fight back for their pathetic lives and precious city? Dan chuckled to himself. He was truly a generous guy, giving them a couple more hours of their pathetic, measly lives to "enjoy".

Plus, when he left them alive, he was able to watch a whole gamut of beautiful emotions play over their faces. There was the brief, tortured relief in their eyes as they watched him turn his attention to someone else.

The blank shock as they silently witnessed the fresh horrors he was inflicting on a victim that could be *them*, should they catch his eye again. That's why they didn't dare make a peep, and only the most foolhardy would try to attack him instead of saving themselves. Those rare fools often had a twisted look of rage on their face, or absolute terror, not for themselves but that their loved one was about to be grievously harmed.

Dan's favorite were the craven, self-serving cowards. He loved to see the hope bloom on their face from the corner of his sight. They really thought they might get away, that they could slip off silently or drag themselves under cover. As if anyone could hide from him! Destroying that hope and watching their faces crumple was so satisfying it almost felt _wrong_. It had a deliciously sinful quality to it.

But what unlucky victim would catch Dan's attention now, giving Tetslaff a few hours of reprieve? He scoured the burning city for fresh entertainment. He blasted a few people down quickly. They looked boring. Finally, an intriguing noise caught his ears. But he couldn't see the source of this delightful noise. He had to fly halfway down the street before he spotted them, following their bleating, animal-like cries of distress.

Only a complete idiot would dare to make noise when he was around. An idiot...or a child.

The little girl couldn't have been more than five years old. Although her pink Octonauts tshirt was wet with blood, it didn't seem to be her own. She was in relatively good shape, for a citizen of Dan's home city. He hadn't targeted her directly (yet) so the broken arm dangling uselessly at her side had to be collateral damage from one of his larger blasts.

Dan floated along invisibly behind her for a while, listening to her whining and sniveling for her mother. The girl's mother probably wasn't doing too hot if she was letting her kid wander around crying with a broken arm. That wasn't a very good mother, was it? He'd probably did the kid a favor by blasting the bitch. Not that he was much into heroics these days!

Dan chuckled to himself as he contemplated what to do to this youthful bit of moving target practice.  
Children were...lightweight, which meant they could be punted further. Stupider and more trusting than adults, which lead to some hilarious games. It would be easy for instance, to promise to this little girl that he would take her to her mother...and then to drop her in the 40 foot chasm behind her, where he mother undoubtedly had gone along with several hundred other people, victim to one of Dan's largest blasts.

The childish screams of terror and betrayal would be hilarious. But Dan was in the mood for more straightforward humor today. He watched as the little girl staggered past the half-consumed burned out shell of what had once been a florist's shop. Half of the antique brick exterior remained intact, the rest was piles of rubble.

The child was stumbling toward one such pile, tears making clean streaks on her grimy face. Dan's eyes were on the mountain of rubble, where one salmon pink brick was beautifully poised, teetering just so in the wind. Even the slightest nudge would send it toppling below.

And just a few more steps and the little girl would be...yep. Dan sent out the tiniest, almost miniscule beam, almost just a ray of light from his hand. With the softest scrape of ceramic the brick went tumbling down. It plunged straight onto the child's head. There wasn't even time for the sniveling child to yelp in pain or surprise. It crashed into her, causing a shockingly bright splatter of red blood to spray into the air. The girl fell down like a puppet whose strings have been cut, sprawling in a sad heap on the sidewalk.

Dan floated over to the tiny scrap of a flesh creature on the sidewalk, putting his head to her chest to listen for a heartbeat, or feel the rise and fall of a human's breathing. It would be very amusing if the girl had only been knocked out and could regain consciousness, the better to be toyed with. But there was no movement from within the child's torso.

A rare frown spread across Dan's pale green-tinted face. The death of the girl had been almost too fast, almost an act of mercy. And mercy was too good for the lost little sheep of his city. He would have to make sure it didn't happen again.

Oh well, he consoled himself, there was plenty more citizens who he could give some of his long-term care and focused attention...it was about time to check on Tetslaff. He couldn't let the gym teacher get away to safety, outside the city limits. She'd barely been injured after all. And the Amity Park hospital had probably juuuust about stabilized most of the survivors from the bridge collapse earlier. Visiting hours would be starting soon...for Dan anyway.

* * *

The sight of broken bodies and screaming, crying people among flames and destruction would have disturbed most. While Clockwork was not pleased with the images, he had seen them played out time and time again before, and was largely immune to the affects. It helped that in this case, the people and places weren't real. In the scene of carnage he watched, Dan was the only actual sentient being.

A splatter of blood across the viewing screen soon erased Dan's grinning visage from view. Clockwork hmmed to himself. There was no decrease in violence or genocidal fantasies this month, but at least Dan seemed happy, and that was the important thing.

Clockwork twitched a finger, and the viewing screen brought up a long list of statistics. Some held steady while others flickered up or down almost constantly. Energy levels, dopamine, ectoplasm generation rates, vitamins, minerals, sleep duration and frequency.

Dan's ectoplasm levels were getting low. The pocket dimension he existed in, entered through the Fenton Thermos, was not entirely cut off from the Ghost Zone. Still, its ambient ectoplasm levels were lower than the Ghost Zone's, if not as barren as the human's world. They were not high enough to sustain a ghost's natural levels indefinitely. A ghost would periodically have to return to the Ghost Zone to replenish themselves, almost like eating.

Clockwork studied the numbers. He could wait a little longer before bringing Dan back. Being pulled out of his happy murder dimension and realizing it'd all been a farce, that he was still trapped in a thermos in Clockwork's lair always put the evil ghost in a foul mood. Clockwork wasn't worried about retaliation. He had Dan well in hand and there were no extant probable timelines where the ghost escaped Clockwork's containment or damaged his caretaker.

Rather, Clockwork didn't want his charge to suffer unnecessarily. He was not a cruel ghost and he was responsible for Dan's well-being, a charge he took seriously. That meant minimizing the amount of Dan's time spent conscious of his fate, meant keeping him in the thermos as long as he possibly could without risking damage to the ghost's health.

Tomorrow, Clockwork decided. It would give him time for the calming agents to work. He uncapped the lid from the thermos. The accidental release of the ghost was not automatic or even really possible with the pocket dimension inside, which had to be unlocked or opened in addition to the thermos's physical seal. And since the ghost inside had no awareness it was inside a thermos while it was in there, there was no attempt to escape on its part anyway.

That's why Clockwork was comfortable leaving the lid off while the little adjustment he screwed on did its magic. It would push tranquilizing agents into the air inside the pocket dimension, helping to soothe the raging ghost rampaging freely inside, making him calmer when he was brought back to full consciousness in a containment cell in Clockwork's tower.

Or that was the theory. While it usually decreased acts of extreme aggression (blasts to the containment cell's walls went down 50%), the amount of threats, insults, and enraged wailing didn't budge.

* * *

"You sick meddling fuck, let me out of here." Dan hissed.

Clockwork looked over at the enraged ghost glaring at him from within the glowing green confines of the containment cell. He quirked a brow at Dan.

"Is there a reason I should?" Clockwork asked, his voice curious.

"You have no right to keep me in here! You want to act like I'm evil and YOU'RE good? Good guys don't play judge, jury, and executioner and kidnap people and keep them locked up for eternity!"

"That's quite a spiel. Have you been thinking on this for awhile?" was all Clockwork said.

"You sick clockfucking bastard, let me out!" Dan howled, blasting the containment wall in front of Clockwork's face over and over again. His blasts were harmlessly reabsorbed, the energy actually helping strengthen the energy field.

"When I get out of here, I'm going to—" Dan then preceded to list off in great detail, many physically improbable things he wanted to do to Clockwork, all incredibly gory.

Clockwork just hummed lightly as he adjusted the containment field's energy and ectoplasm levels, tuning the ranting ghost out.

When Dan saw rage and threats were getting him nowhere, he changed tactics.

"Come on, seriously. Haven't you heard of due process?" he asked, trying to put a pleading note into his voice. It came out almost sarcastically insincere.

"You seem to forget, Dan, that you are the only one here that ever claimed to be a hero, or good. I do as I see best, and am answerable to no one."

"You insufferable, arrogant prick—" Dan spat, reverting back to anger quickly.

Clockwork looked at the screen showing the containment wall's reading one more time. Dan's wrathful attacks depleted his energy and some of his mineral levels that were used to generate offensive ectoplasmic energy (like used in the Ghost Rays). By now Clockwork had gotten the average energy expenditure down to a tee and the ghost jail cell compensated perfectly for what Dan would waste. This meant he didn't have to spend longer outside of the thermos because of his tantrums.

He was ready to go back. Ignoring Dan's screams of 'DON'T YOU DARE PUT ME IN BACK IN THERE! I'LL—" Clockwork slotted the open thermos into the side of the containment field and watched as the evil ghost was sucked back in.

It was back to fantasy land for Dan.

* * *

Clockwork kept an eye on Dan's little dreamland. For a long time, it continued on as it ever had. Burning buildings, burning cars, burning people. Terrified humans being beheaded, torn apart, dropped from great heights, crushed with rocks, electrocuted, slammed into buildings with Dan's ghostly wail, the ways in which Dan tortured humans was endless.

While he didn't bother animals, they could be seen fleeing the wreckage and the fires for safety.

Then one day, the scene changed. Not much, it was the same post-apocalyptic hellscape as ever. The only thing different was that now Dan had someone alongside him.

Clockwork's rubbed a hand along his chin, now covered in the long beard of his aged form. This...this was an interesting development.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Even at his most evilest and least reformed, Dan had admitted to almost missing his friends from his previous, innocent life as Danny Fenton.

Clockwork was pretty sure the real Samantha Manson would never high-five Dan for dropping a school bus full of preschoolers into a lake. Likewise Tucker Foley was unlikely to happily assist Dan by building him a detection system to hunt down hiding survivors.

Clockwork did a quick scan of the timelines involving those two. Yep...there was almost none where the two kids went evil. They were some of the rare almost fundamentally good humans in existence. And even where they fell astray, they never went evil in quite this manner. Meaningless, wholesale destruction for fun was more Dan's thing.

Still, what did it say that Dan was manifesting a subconscious desire for companionship in his slaughter? Was this...progress? He eyed the timelines, the probable and the improbable. Well, it was worth encouraging.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is appreciated ^^
> 
> If you liked this fic, you can subscribe to the series to know when the next parts are up.


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